


marry you

by clairelutra (exosolarmoon)



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 18:54:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 9,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7725910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exosolarmoon/pseuds/clairelutra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>it's a beautiful night</i>
  <br/>
  <i>we're looking for something dumb to do</i>
  <br/>
  <i>hey baby, i think i wanna marry you</i>
</p><p> </p><p>In an effort to stave off the law and keep their merch royalties going where they want them, Chat Noir and Ladybug need to get married.</p><p>Or rather, Ladybug gets married to Adrien Agreste and Chat Noir gets married to Marinette Dupain-Cheng.</p><p>There's no way <i>this</i> will end badly, no sir.</p><p>(a story told in drabbles, now abandoned)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ladrien, rescue

**Author's Note:**

> so a few months back i was dealing with this horrible case of writer's block, and ended up speedwriting five drabbles on tumblr in an effort to kick my brain back into gear, which spawned this.
> 
> fair warning, it's still incomplete and i haven't worked on it in months, but i wanted it archived here so. o/
> 
> also very much an unbeta'd speedwrite — beware :'D

This was quite possibly the strangest way Ladybug had ever been rescued.

While the past mayor had been happy enough to leave her and Chat Noir’s civilian identities well enough alone, this new mayor was on the prowl. The latest in his series of petty schemes to get them to reveal their identities involved a paperwork trick that could invalidate Ladybug’s input over her own toy lines and memorabilia — specifically, where her share of the royalties _went_ — if she didn’t have someone ‘real’ tied to her legally.

She didn’t live off those royalties, but like hell she’d see those profits taken away from the women’s shelters where they were currently being automatically donated.

She knew the intent was for her to be forced into putting her parents’ names on a paper that would tell the government exactly who she was, but she and Chat had discovered a loophole: she just had to _get married_ to someone ‘real,’ and the new law would be followed to the letter.

Which didn’t _exactly_ explain why she was standing in a government office swearing ‘in sickness and in health’ to one _Adrien Agreste_ , but she’d offered up Marinette as a convenient bride to Chat so he could keep his royalties going to the various pet shelters he’d found, and he’d returned the gesture by offering up Adrien, of all people.

So here she was, shakily sliding a gold band onto a red-faced Adrien’s left ring finger and whispering, “I do.”

It was a comfort and a thrill to see that he was shaking just as badly as she was. He slid an identical band over her left ring finger and echoed, “I do.”

And just like that, a dream she'd harbored since her _lyceé_ days came true.

What a rescue.


	2. marichat, petrichor

It was strange, but kissing Chat was oddly like tasting petrichor.

Warm and dry and wet and earthy; like something solid and real and, well, _peaceful_. If it weren’t for the context, Marinette would be sure she was just kissing a friend, perhaps drunkenly after delivering said friend home and the friend was feeling affectionate.

It was nothing like the bolt of lightning that had struck her as soon as Adrien’s lips had touched hers — nothing like the heart-pounding, spine-tingling, knee-weakening first brush of split-second contact she’d had then, jolted away from after only the sparest second because it was just too much.

Kissing Chat was wholesome and undramatic — a simple, honest kiss between two people who just happened to be getting married at the moment.

Married.

She was getting married.

At twenty.

_Twice over_.

Oh god.

The witnesses and officiator, the same group that had married Ladybug and Adrien, laughed as she and Chat drew apart, giving each other awkward little smiles, and then dissolved into laughter themselves.

If she had to get married twice, she could have done a whole lot worse, Marinette thought, catching her breath and watching her partner lose it harder. She could’ve done a lot worse than her childhood dream and someone who made her laugh like this.

One of the witnesses slung his arms around their shoulders and said to Chat, “You should have seen the other two! Awkward as newborn colts, those two were. You were lucky you already had a wonderful girlfriend like this.”

The man slapped their shoulders and finished off with, “Congratulations on finally getting married. I hope you two have a wonderful life together.”

_What._


	3. marichat, pictionary

"That’s a piano, Chat.”

“Look, what kind of piano is left outside? There’s a sun! And a tree! And I drew it! If I say it’s a dog, isn’t it a dog?”

“Chat, I understand your frustration, but that is most definitely a piano.”

“Nyaarrrgh! But I drew it! And it’s _outside!_ ”

“It’s a piano, Chat.”

Chat flopped backwards onto her dorm bed, throwing an arm over his eyes. “I want a divorce.”

Okay so maybe playing Pictionary with only two people on their wedding night hadn’t been the best of ideas, but what else were they going to do? Have sex?

(Marinette wouldn’t exactly mind, for a myriad of reasons that ranged from _he’s really easy on the eyes_ to _I trust him with my everything_ to _we’re so close, seeing each other naked would probably just be long-overdue natural progression at this point_ , but she thought Chat might, for reasons that ranged from _he doesn’t actually know Marinette that well_ to _he has a secret identity to protect_ to _he has someone else in mind_.)

(Thus, the topic of copulation remained unbroached.)

“You don’t want a divorce, because you want to keep your kittens safe,” Marinette reminded her new husband, prodding him in the leg with her pencil.

He shifted his arm just enough to allow him to fix her with a glare. “They won’t be _safe_ if your turn _them_ into pianos, too.”

“That is _entirely_ on your drawing skill. Or lack of it.”

Chat delicately brought her favorite feather pillow down on her head, incidentally declaring a pillow war that ended with too much laughter and too many feathers and an allergy attack on his end that had her digging out her benadryl and rubbing his back as she tried to keep him from making her a widow at twenty.

“I’m glad it was you,” he admitted quietly after the storm passed. “Out of everyone it could’ve been, I’m glad it was you.”

“…Yeah,” she said, winding down to slump against his warm back, smiling helplessly. “I’m glad it was you, too.”


	4. ladrien, tease

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaand the ladrien wedding night /o/

When she was fifteen, Marinette had had a bucket list of things she wanted to achieve before she was forty.

Get into Paris’ top fashion university? With only the most minimal of connections, check.

Work under Gabriel Agreste? Nice shiny new paid internship, check.

Put herself through school by taking commissions? Check. (Thank you, Uncle Jagged.)

Marry Adrien Agreste?

Ladybug glanced across the table at the beautiful boy she was currently on a very public wedding night date with, shiny gold wedding band glowing like a beacon from his ring finger.

…Check.

He was staring at her, she noticed now that she could actually look him in the eye for more than five seconds.

“See something you _like?_ ” she said, making a brave, breathless attempt at a ‘flirtatious’ grin and propping her chin in her palm.

“Yup,” teased Adrien, mimicking her pose with a wild flush high on his cheeks and his hair glittering like gold in the light of the high-end chandelier above them. “You.”

…Ladybug could just see her headstone now:

_Here lies Marinette Dupain-Cheng, slain by a boy too beautiful to be real. May she rest in peace. 2000-2020_


	5. marichat, socks

Being married to Chat was nothing like Marinette expected.

She'd expected that the marriage to be on paper only, a way to keep Chat’s shelters in business and nothing more.

To her surprise, Chat seemed to be putting an effort in to being a good husband, albeit a pretty absent one. He turned up in her dorm room at strange hours, delivering her things like milk and coffee and toilet paper, though how he always knew when she was running low kind of baffled her. He brushed her hair when he was there in the mornings and carried her to bed when he arrived late at night and found her slumped over her desk, latest project smeared on her cheek and dark bags below her eyes.

It was... sweet.

“Socks?”

The socks were new, though.

Chat rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere and everywhere but where she was standing in the studio doorway, holding freshly delivered (and much appreciated) Starbucks in one hand and an unopened package of socks in the other.

“Yours are falling apart,” he defended himself, rather weakly, going distinctly pink around the edges of the mask.

Marinette remembered roping Chat into helping her with her laundry when he’d ambushed her during chore time last week. He’d held up a sock as he was pairing them, poking his claws through two very large holes and wrinkling his nose at her.

She’d swiped them away from him, telling him not to judge when she was sure his socks weren’t much better.

He’d insisted that yes, they _were_ in better shape, and chore time had dissolved into a petty, joking argument about proper sock care.

“They are,” Marinette admitted, studying the package. She just hadn’t had the time to get new ones, what with her internship and courseload and superheroing duties. The unexpected gesture left her warm all over, a kind of fuzzy happiness that spilled out of her heart like candle wax.

Impulsively, she raised up on her tiptoes to kiss Chat’s cheek, whispering a quiet thank you in his ear.

When she pulled back, Chat was staring at her, open-mouthed and several shades redder than he had just been.

His expression twitched from a gape slowly into a surprised grin. He ruffled his golden hair and backed away with a little wave, leaving her with her coffee half-raised in farewell as he turned on his heel and left with a bounce in his step.

_Oh no._

She stood there with a sinking, fluttery feeling in her stomach that could only mean trouble and thought, _oh no._

Being married to Chat was definitely nothing like Marinette expected, and she didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.


	6. ladrien, paparazzi

_This was a mistake_ , Ladybug thought miserably as she tried in vain to ignore the photoshoot crew and paparazzi swarming around the building like disturbed ants, ringing fire alarm muffled behind the closed door to the roof.

Adrien was even harder to ignore than the rabble, despite being far quieter standing several feet away from her on the barren rooftop.

So maybe she hadn’t had a conversation with her ‘husband’ since that one farce of a first date for the cameras, too mired in her own embarrassment to justify visiting Adrien again. So maybe the nearly imperceptible lines of exhaustion around his eyes filled her with a strange, aching sense of failure. So maybe Chat’s stellar performance as a somewhat absentee spouse had ignited something competitive in Marinette.

So maybe she’d slept a grand total of six hours out of the past seventy-two, and the coffee Chat had brought her was far stronger than her normal half-strength.

None of these reasons were suitable excuses for why she’d transformed, tripped the fire alarm, and stolen Adrien away to the roof in the resulting confusion.

_Note to self_ , Ladybug thought, burying her face in her hands. _Tell Chat to not get the double-shot next time._

“I’m sorry—”

“So what did—”

Ladybug’s apology tumbled over Adrien’s start, and she clamped her mouth shut in the exact same moment he did.

“You first—”

“You first—”

Adrien froze, and their eyes met, truly met, for the first time since their date.

The corner of Adrien’s mouth ticked up. “…Jinx.”

It broke the dam. Ladybug burst into giggly, embarrassed, slightly hysterical laughter as Adrien failed to hold in his quiet snickers.

This was not how she’d planned this meeting.

Granted, she hadn’t planned this meeting at all; she’d fully intended not to infringe on Adrien’s time and keep this marriage on paper only. She couldn’t even string together a coherent sentence around him, much less attempt to be a suitable wife, no matter how many of her childhood dreams had revolved around just that.

“Sorry, sorry,” she gasped, stuffing the laughter back down into her chest and gulping down huge breaths of air.

“No, no,” Adrien reassured her, in no better state than she. “I just—…”

Panting, Ladybug prompted, “'Just’?”

Adrien slowly stopped wheezing and gave her a shy smile. “I just… wasn’t sure I’d see you again.”

She had her mouth open in both apology and justification before Adrien went on.

“I’m glad. Glad I saw you again, I mean. I’m sorry, I know this—” and here he waved his left hand, showing off the gold band he still kept on his finger “—wasn’t anything you wanted.”

“No!” she yelped, frantic and jittery, then rubbed the back of her neck with a sheepish hand. “That should be my line, I mean. I’m sorry Chat dragged you into this.”

He just watched her, a strange smile playing around the corners of his mouth. “I don’t mind.”

Oh.

“Oh.”

_Oh._

Ladybug very carefully buried her burning face in her shaking hands and kept it there for several seconds while she tried to recover the scattered shreds of her composure.

Adrien, like a true gentleman, waited for her.

When she finally felt like her heart was not about to leap out of her mouth if she dared open it for a second, she peeked through her fingers and said, “S-so maybe… y-you wouldn’t mind if… I visited, sometimes—?”

“Yes!”

Ladybug gaped, removing her hands entirely in her surprise.

Adrien coughed.

“I-I mean, of course you’re welcome to visit anytime you want.” Which would have been enough to end Ladybug right there, except that he went on with, “I _am_ your… your…”

He trailed off, bright red. Actually saying the word ‘husband’ appeared to be a little too much for Adrien, which was a good thing, because hearing it would _definitely_ have been too much for Ladybug.

“Right,” she squeaked. “My—”

“ _Hey! Where’s Agreste?!_ ”

Ladybug flinched, thankfully cut off before she could utter the ‘H’ word herself. “…Sorry. You were working, weren’t you?”

Adrien wrinkled his nose, blush fading slightly. “Don’t worry about it. With any luck, they’ll pass it off as the honeymoon phase.”

Honeymoon phase.

As in, that stage in a relationship where a couple couldn’t keep their hands off one another.

He seemed to catch the connotations of his own words at the same moment she did, his eyes going wide and his face from pink to beetroot.

Oh.

_Her and Adrien_ in a _‘honeymoon phase.’_

**Oh.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they screm


	7. marichat, angst

_In sickness and in health_ , Marinette reminded herself firmly, staring at the green swirls of glow-in-the-dark stars on her dorm room ceiling. _In joy and in sorrow; at three P.M. and at three **A.M.**._

The oxymoronic mess of guilty cat slumped artfully over her desk and chair sighed for the fifth time that hour and the _twelfth_ time since he’d crawled in her window just as she was finishing up tomorrow’s presentation.

That had been two hours ago. Two hours she should've been _sleeping_.

“Look,” she finally said, breaking the silence. “I’m not expecting you to stop liking Ladybug just because we put our names on a piece of paper and submitted it to the government.”

Because she was pretty damn sure that this was about that one unthinking comment she’d made in response to Chat’s flirtations earlier today.

_Don’t you have a pretty little wife waiting for you at home?_

If she could duct-tape past-Ladybug’s mouth shut, she would.

She sort of knew that Chat was the kind of person to value things like wedding vows and fidelity (no matter how forced the circumstances surrounding those vows had been), and she should have _thought about that_ before opening her big, dumb mouth, but she hadn't. 

And so here he was.

“I swore to you—”

“—because of _circumstances_ —”

“—that I would remain faithful to you—”

“—we aren’t even technically _in a relationship_ —”

“—no matter _what_.”

Marinette sat up on her elbows to better glare at him.

Chat met her with a heartbreakingly earnest look and said, “And I _keep_ my promises, Marinette.”

‘Marinette.’ Not 'Princess.’

Marinette was the one sighing then, flopping back onto the bed and, after a moment’s thought, lifting up the corner of her quilt.

When Chat made no move to join her, she scooted as far over as she could in her tiny twin bed and lifted the quilt a bit higher.

“In,” she commanded.

Chat got in.

“It’s too late for angst,” Marinette mumbled, wrapping her arms and quilt both around the sad kitty.

_Mmmm, warm._

Chat had more body heat than she did, and hugging him felt like hugging someone who’d just been standing out in the sun. Marinette wrapped both of her legs around one of his and tucked her face against his collarbone, wondering idly if she could induce him to more sleepovers as her hot water bottle.

Chat breathed a stilted laugh into her hair, hugging her with all his nice warmth in return. “Okay.”


	8. marichat, anger

Marinette was just touching upon a doze when Chat spoke again, the two of them twined tightly together to stay on her tiny bed.

“…Well, it’s not like Ladybug would ever want to…” he trailed off, then pressed his nose into her hairline and held her a little tighter, tense. 

Marinette opened her eyes, guilt growing exponentially at the lilt of hopelessness in that cut-off confession.

Guilt, and _offense_.

_He_ was not the one who had to stare at his leather-clad ass every damn time an akuma decided to make a wreck of Paris.

Marinette was _deeply offended_ on behalf of her poor, abused uterus.

(If she’d been thinking clearly, then she might’ve realized that she was getting offended that Chat was implying she wouldn’t cheat on Adrien, and also at the implication that she wouldn’t help him ‘cheat’ on herself.

Alas, clear thinking was in rather short supply for Marinette tonight.)

“She loves you, you know.”

Chat went rigid.

“What?”

“Ladybug loves you.”

Marinette found herself on her back rather abruptly, nose to nose with Chat.

“I— how do you know? Did-did she—?”

Heart thumping, she blinked at the luminescent green eyes mere centimeters away that had replaced the stars on her ceiling and internally flailed for a suitable excuse.

“She… she told me.”

Chat drew back. “Oh.”

Marinette breathed a sigh of relief. _Excuse accepted_.

“…Did… did she… say anything else?”

And frankly, she should probably have just shut up before she could weave the lie of her association with Ladybug into something so complex it fell apart on her, but…

She might, _might_ be responsible for putting that insecurity in his voice, and that Would Not Stand.

“Only that you’re the best partner she could ever ask for.”

Chat’s breath hitched, and she was close enough to feel his heart stutter. “O-oh.”

“And that she has no idea what she’d do without you.”

Chat didn’t have a response for that, and the unbidden cascade of words kept coming; all the things she’d ever wanted to say to Chat but couldn’t because that just wasn’t how they rolled suddenly bubbling up past her lips with no end in sight.

“And that you’re her best friend. And that it makes her sick every time you sacrifice yourself for her because she thinks that one day you’re really going to die doing that, and then she’ll lose you. And that you’re funny and loyal and kind and— and you deserve the world, and she—”

Marinette had to stop there, having worked herself up into intense, violent, nearly _teary_ anger on Chat’s behalf; anger at _herself_ for not being able to say all of this to his face and give him all the reassurance he could ever need.

She blinked hot eyes and blew out an annoyed little sigh, shoving the unexpected bundle of emotion back down. 

She was dimly aware that Chat wasn’t breathing anymore, his heart going two or three times as fast as it had been when she’d started.

“And she said you have a cute butt,” she finished, because he really did.

That got Chat breathing again.

He choked on the inhale and started to cough, spluttering out, “ _She said **what?!**_ ”

“That you have a cute butt,” Marinette repeated, biting her lip against the grin pressing up against the corners of her mouth and tucking her face back into the crook of Chat’s neck. “Now sleep.”

“But—”

“ _Sleep_. I have a presentation tomorrow.”

“How did—”

“ _Sleep_.”

“Princess…”

“ _Goodnight_ , Chat.”

Grumbling, Chat subsided, and Marinette was finally allowed to sleep.


	9. ladrien, distance

The thing was, Marinette didn’t have a _clue_ how to be Adrien’s wife.

With Chat, it was easy. She’d been best friends with him long before she’d married him. Going in, she’d had a pretty good clue about how to go about the care and keeping of her own dorky catboy; give him pets and scritches and hugs and food, laugh with him and listen to him and watch dumb movies with him— _care_ about him, and let the rest come naturally.

With Adrien, being a traditional housewife wasn’t going to work. Adrien, as far as she knew, didn’t need anyone to clean his house or cook his meals, as a good housewife would—he had staff for that, and Ladybug didn’t have the means, time, or personality to replace them. Children were out of the question at the moment—the two of them were only twenty, and she couldn’t even look him in the eye for more than a few seconds at a time.

She couldn’t just call it ‘friends, except a few levels up,’ like she did with Chat, because she didn’t even know how to be Adrien’s _friend_ —though she’d managed to stop stammering her way through every encounter, her crush and the surrounding nerves and awkwardness had kept them distant-but-amicable acquaintances.

What was a girl to do when she found herself the wife of her long-time crush, yet had no idea what wifely duties she should be accomplishing?

Gather information, obviously.


	10. adrinette, lotion

“Having a nice time sunbathing there?”

Adrien cracked open an eye and smiled at her, clad only in the last pair of swim trunks he’s been asked to model. “You know it.”

Marinette held up a bottle of tan lotion. “The director is worried about your ‘flawless model skin.’”

Adrien laughed. “Is she? Sorry about that.”

He sat up and accepted the bottle, lines of his stomach standing in clear relief as he did so, and Marinette’s mouth went dry.

She watched, hypnotized and silent, as Adrien rubbed the stuff into his skin, miles and miles of it bare to her eyes.

Clearing her throat, she reminded herself that she’d come here on a _mission_ , and that mission didn’t involve ogling. “S-so, um… What’s it like, being married to Ladybug?”

She knew that it was probably pretty much like not being married at all, but she was still working on that.

Adrien slowed in administering the sunscreen, staring into the distance with a tiny little grin. “It feels kind of like a dream, honestly.”

Urk.

And also _oh_.

“And what’s it like being married to Chat Noir?” he returned, little grin going cheeky. “Everything you ever dreamed?”

Marinette opened her mouth to deny this scandalous accusation, only to find she really couldn’t.

“I— Yeah. Surprisingly.”

It wasn’t _everything_ she’d ever dreamed, but, despite the circumstances, it was almost _better_. She hadn’t expected to feel this at ease.

She shook the thought of Chat off and pressed a little harder. “What do you and Ladybug do together?”

_Nothing_ , she knew, but she needed a lead-in.

He blinked and laughed a little self-deprecatingly. “Not much, honestly. She’s busy with the city-saving and all… Well, you know how it is.”

Marinette hummed, distracted by the fact that he seemed to have rubbed the stuff over every bit of skin he could reach, which didn’t include the golden skin of his back. “Can I get your back?”

He handed the bottle back over with quiet thanks, and Marinette knelt behind him on the fake beach, squirting the lotion onto her fingers and painting a wet stripe down Adrien’s back.

She could do this much for him, if not much else.

“What do you _wish_ you and Ladybug did?” she asked, drawing little circles through the sunscreen, because subtlety had never been her strong point.

“Who says I wish for anything?” Adrien sounded surprised.

“I…” Marinette floundered for an excuse. “I mean… I _do_ know her. I’m betting you haven’t seen her much.”

He made an understanding noise. “Right. I forgot you two were friends.”

Marinette just concentrated on working the sunscreen into Adrien’s back as thoroughly as she could.

“I guess I do wish I saw her more,” Adrien confessed to her in an undertone, like it was a secret. “But she’s got a city to protect. Can’t exactly complain that I can’t take her out on a date when it’s on her to stop every single akuma that pops up.”

Date.

He’d said ‘date.’

He’d implied he wanted to take Ladybug on a date.

_Date_.

“N— well…” Marinette gathered up the scattered shreds of her composure and confessed, “I think I see Chat way more than you see Ladybug—” _ah shoot_ “—i-if I know anything about Ladybug at all.”

Date.

Adrien tipped his head back to give her a sympathetic smile. “She’s pretty elusive, isn’t she.”

Marinette strangled out a noise that was less of a hum and more of a squeak, entirely distracted from her task.

Date.

Adrien leaned away and stretched. “That’s great, Marinette. Thanks!”

Date.

“S-sure! A-a-anytime.”

He wanted to _take Ladybug on a date_.

“Hey!”

They both looked up to find the director poking her head around the door jam.

“It’s too bright, so we’re moving inside.”

“Well, that was pointless,” Marinette sighed, snapping the lid of the bottle shut.

“Not pointless,” Adrien said, standing up and stretching again. “I got to talk with you. We don’t do that enough.”

He wanted to talk with Marinette more.

And take Ladybug _on a date_.

Whatever else Adrien might’ve said got lost in Marinette’s daydreams.


	11. ladrien, photoshoot

Let it never be said that Marinette Dupain-Cheng wasted time.

Okay so maybe, _maybe_ ambushing Adrien in costume at the end of the photoshoot could have used a little more planning—like, what she was going to say to him, for example—but the word ‘date’ was still echoing around in her skull and planning was rather low on her list of priorities.

It could have gone worse, all told.

She alighted on one of the frames of the windows near where Adrien was packing up, and interrupted his escape with a quiet, “Hey.”

What happened next would haunt her dreams for months.

It wasn’t epic or dramatic or world-shattering. It wasn’t a kiss made of fireworks or a deceleration of love shouted to the skies or a moment that changed everything.

It was bigger than that.

It was Adrien sighing soft and exhausted as he zipped up his bag, shoulders slumped and face drawn.

It was Adrien turning to look at her in the low evening light, exhaustion vanishing in his surprise, bag forgotten.

It was Adrien’s drawn face lighting up, green eyes glowing peridot as they caught the sun, golden and overjoyed and _thrilled_.

Thrilled to see her.

_Her_.

“Hey,” he returned breathlessly, and Ladybug melted. Well and truly _melted_.

“Hey,” she echoed dumbly, muscles feeling like jelly and barely remaining atop the window sill.

“I-I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, leaving his bag behind to stand by the sill. “What are you doing here?”

“Just… came to see how you were doing,” Ladybug managed, clinging to her yo-yo line and hoping the sunset covered up just how badly she was starting to blush. “…And… to see if, maybe, you w-wanted to… um.”

“I-if I wanted?”

“Date,” Ladybug choked out, having out with the one word that had been bouncing around in her head for hours. “G-go on a date. With me. Th-this weekend.”

“Yes, of course I want to! I mean…” He scratched the back of his head and grinned. “You beat me to it. I was going to ask you first.”

And in that moment, Ladybug had achieved the one thing she’d been longing to do for the past five years: successfully invite Adrien Agreste on a date.

_And he said he was going to ask her first_.

This day was going in her calendar.

“G-great! I’ll, um, I’ll call you?”

“Please.”

“Right. Um. I— city-saving.”

“City-saving…?” Adrien parroted, blinking. “Right! City-saving! You’d better—”

“Yeah, I’d better—”

“Go save Paris,” he urged her, then held up his phone. “And remember to—”

“Of course! Who’d forget a hot date like you?”

_Oops._

“Uh.”

Marinette carefully did not look at the bright red blush covering Adrien’s face from neckline to hairline. “Not me, obviously.”

Adrien had no response for that.

Marinette coughed awkwardly. “Anyway. Later!”

“…Later.”

Rather than leaving to save the city, Marinette left to save the last of her dignity.

…Now she just had to figure out a date worthy of Adrien that she could pull off by this weekend.


	12. marichat, truth

She was screaming when Chat came to visit her that night.

Quite literally _screaming_ at top volume into her pillow.

He tapped the window and waved a handful of DVD cases for her inspection when she stopped screaming long enough to look up.

Marinette flipped him off, throat stinging frightfully and lungs feeling like they were about to collapse under the pressure.

Chat winced and left.

_Wise man_.

She dropped her head back into the pillow with a fabric-y _fwump_ and went back to screaming.

* * *

To her surprise, he didn’t stay away.

“The cat came back,” Marinette greeted him hoarsely as she opened the window at two A.M..

“So the cat did,” Chat said, dropping a plastic bag on a corner of her desk and sitting backwards in her spinny office chair, giving it a cursory spin before resting his chin on his folded arms and put on his best ‘therapist’ face. “So, what’s up.”

Marinette coughed.

“Who says anything’s up?” Marinette croaked out of her scream-raw throat.

Chat didn’t dignify that with an answer, tail flicking idly at odds with the intense stare he fixed her with.

Marinette caved quick. “So Ladybug asked Adrien on a date, and…”

* * *

Twenty minutes later, she was still talking, pacing the length of her tiny dorm and gesticulating frantically, sucking at a throat lozenge Chat had produced from the bag. “—an’ it hash to be absholutely perfect, she _knowsh_ an’—”

She was buried so deeply in her rant that she didn’t notice Chat getting up from his seat until she ran into him, nose first.

Chat grasped her arms, voice warm as he reassured her, “I’m sure Ladybug knows Adrien would be happy with anything, Princess. It doesn’t have to be 'absolutely perfect.’ Calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down,” Marinette snapped, twitching. She bit through the lozenge in her fervor and swallowed the shattered candy, grabbing Chat by the shoulders and shaking him gently. “It has to be perfect. _Has to_.”

He blinked at her, shoulders scrunched up around his ears, and wrinkled his nose. “Why are _you_ so invested?”

_Urk._

Marinette let go, nervously glancing away. “W-well I mean… it’s _Adrien_ and _Ladybug_ , right? Of course I’d be invested in their rom—… date.”

Any good friend would be, or so Alya’d taught her.

Chat paused, before rubbing the back of his neck and going oddly pink. “…You have a point.”

“Right, and Ladybug just doesn’t know how to do _anything_ ,” Marinette continued, going back to pacing. “Which means I need to help her figure it out, and I just don’t know what to doo _oooo!_ ”

The last word was accompanied by a spin and a flop that landed her face-first on her bed with a soft moan.

She sighed deeply. “Chaaat. What do I dooooo? …What are _you_ doing?”

Chat tossed her a little grin from where he was setting up her laptop right in front of her, but didn’t bother looking away as he waved the handful of movies at her in explanation.

“Chat, now is _not_ the time for movies!” she hissed.

“ _Au contraire_ , my dear princess,” Chat said, popping in the first disk and full-body nudging her to the side so he could lie on his stomach next to her. “Now is _exactly_ the time for movies.”

Marinette took one look at the screen and groaned. _50 First Dates_. She should've known. As far as she knew, Chat had never met a chick flick he didn't like.

“I thought you needed date ideas?” he pointed out, oh-so-casually slinging an arm around her shoulders before she could even think to wiggle around him to freedom. “What better way to get ideas than from the masters themselves?”

Trapped, Marinette grumbled, “What are they even masters of? Being dumbasses?”

“ _Tsss_ , burn,” Chat chuckled, horribly unoffended. He hugged her a little tighter. “But no. Masters of having like fifteen million different date ideas.”

“Chat, I— _Ladybug_ wants this date to be actually _good_ ,” Marinette gritted out as she tried to twist her head out of his grip.

“And it _will be_ if you just follow these simple steps,” Chat nearly _snickered_ as he let her escape the headlock only to snake an arm around her waist and reel her right back in.

Marinette wasn’t about to give up, but every attempt at escape just seemed to end with her a little more entangled. Finally, stuck almost entirely beneath Chat’s bulk, she grumbled, “Tell the truth: this is just all to get me to watch this dumb movie with you, isn’t it.”

“Guilty as charged,” he purred, resting his cheek on the top of her head.

“ _Goddamn it_ , Chat.”


	13. ladrien, light

In the end, Ladybug decided on a picnic.

She was a good cook who knew more of Paris’s secret getaway spots than anyone she knew, except maybe Chat. A romantic homemade dinner in a forgotten nook overlooking the city at dusk sounded like just the thing.

And it _was_ just the thing. Adrien hadn’t even minded her carrying him across the city piggyback.

Ladybug’s skin was still tingling at the contact as she tiptoed through the quiet space, lighting the hundred-odd candles she’d set up ahead of time.

She was on a date with Adrien.

Alone.

Just the two of them.

_On a date._

Her hands were shaking as she finished lighting the last candle on that side of the space, turning only to find Adrien had lit most of the others with one of her previously lighted candles.

He flashed her a shy smile, and she returned it as she thanked him, not daring to raise her voice above a whisper.

They put their respective candles back and took their seats on the thick rug Ladybug had put down up here last night, and distributed her goods.

Twisting open a canteen of stew, Adrien broke the flustered silence with, “…Did you send Marinette to sound me out?”

Ladybug dropped the croissants.

“W-w-w-w-w-what would make you think that?” she squeaked, blood roaring in her ears as the pastries scattered around her knees.

Out of the corner of her eye, Ladybug saw Adrien press a fist to his mouth.

“ _Pfffft_.”

_Ugh_. Ladybug felt her ears heat.

“You could just ask me yourself, you know—” To be fair, she _had_. “—I promise I don’t bite.”

“...That’s too bad.”

Ladybug clapped both hands over her traitorous mouth, meeting Adrien’s blushing, wide-eyed stare with one of her own.

Adrien emitted a strangled noise, and Ladybug shut her eyes, wishing she could just die here.

“PffffffthaHA _HAHA!_ ”

Cautiously, she peeled open first one eye, then the other, letting her hands fall away from her mouth as she watched Adrien dissolve into hysterics.

_He sounds—_

She cut the thought off.

_He sounds happy._

Adrien gasped, wiping a tear away from the corner of his eye, and coughed as he started to bring his breathing back under control.

(That first cut-off thought welled back up without her consent: _He sounds like Chat_.)

“ _This_ ,” Ladybug groaned quietly, looking away and feeling herself blush all over again. “ _This_ is why I send Marinette.”

“That’s too bad.”

Ladybug would have given herself whiplash is she hadn’t been wearing the suit.

Adrien was flirting with her.

Sound the _fucking_ alarm, Adrien was flirting with her.

Adrien was flirting with her, wearing a bright, flirtatious, flustered grin that made every damn ‘smoulder’ he’d ever flashed a camera look artificial and forced.

And then he winked.

_Sound the alarm_ , thought one _very_ faint Ladybug. A _nd call an ambulance while you’re at it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A REALLY SUPER CUTE COMIC OF THIS SCENE (I DIE EVERY TIME)](http://clairelutra.tumblr.com/post/144478913435/lolohime-ladybug-would-have-given-herself)


	14. ladrien, custard

After Ladybug’s near-fainting incident, the date went _criminally_ well. A joke about Mecha Strike Unlimited turned into a heated debate about whether or not the sequels had besmirched the reputation of the first, which trailed off into speculation about where the series could have gone, and conversation had just flowed from there.

Ladybug had been in _heaven_.

Then the last bowl of custard had been consumed and the last candle had flickered out and the date had ended. 

She got him home without incident, dropping him off at the base of the huge bank of stairs leading up his front door.

“Thank you,” he murmured, voice low so as not to wake anyone up. He smiled. “Tonight was _amazing_.”

Ladybug’s heart skipped one, two, three beats, and caught them all up in a single bound.

If he sounded any more _adoring_ she was going to _actually faint_ this time.

The lonely church bells echoing out over the city told her that they’d stayed up there until nearly midnight. She hadn’t noticed the time even once.

“Thank you for spending it with me,” she returned, just as quiet, though her volume was just due to how breathless she was, rather than out of any kind of design. 

_A dream. This is a dream._

Then he caught her hand, and she didn’t have the breath to utter so much as a squeak.

He pressed his lips to her knuckles and promised, “ _Always_.” 

Oh.

Oh god.

_Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god—_

“G-goodnight,” Ladybug rasped, knees deciding that just then would be a good time to give out entirely. “Sleep well and I’ll—”

She choked on air, staggering off the railing, more graceful than she had any right to be, and landed heavily on her feet.

“—I’ll see you… s-some other time.”

And she bolted, barely making it out of the gates before collapsing against the wall behind her, Adrien’s faint _goodnight_ and her own frantic heartbeat echoing in her ears.

_Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god—_

She hid her face behind the hand that had been _kissed by Adrien_ just moments ago and the hand that held the ring that declared her _married to him_ , waiting until she heard the front door of the mansion shut before she did a tiny, giddy little dance in place and tried not to squeak so loud that he’d hear her.

She’d been in heaven, but this was now officially the _best day of her life_.

An akuma announced itself mid-fist pump.

“Who needssss dreamssss when one could have _nightmaressssss?!_ ”

_Shoot._

Ladybug pulled herself together in a hurry, though no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t wipe the silly grin off her face.

_Best. Day. Ever._


	15. ladynoir, reaction

“You look happy.”

Ladybug froze. “Do I?”

“You’re smiling,” Chat pointed out with a small smile of his own, leaning against the wall where they were waiting in ambush for Nightmarica.

“Shoot,” Ladybug muttered, feeling her face and realizing he was right—her cheeks ached from being scrunched up in a dopey grin for such a prolonged period of time.

Darn. She thought she’d beaten it!

“I take it the date went well?”

“I… yeah,” she confessed, letting her hands fall away from her face and feeling her cheeks ache a little harder. “Well. It went well.”

He’d kissed! Her hand!!

“That’s good,” Chat murmured, puffing out a slight sigh. “I’m glad.”

_Well, it’s not like Ladybug would ever want to…_

Ladybug swallowed back a sudden, helpless, misplaced apology. She couldn’t control what she felt, but _hell_ if Chat didn’t made her wish she could, sometimes.

“And… the end?”

“The end?” Ladybug asked, stuffing the guilt back with the apology and turning to look at Chat, who was studying a patch of brickwork with idle intensity.

“Of the date,” he clarified, glancing at her and almost flinching away before hurriedly tacking on, “Adrien looked pretty… happy, so I wonder if anything had happened, is all.”

Ladybug blinked.

“Not that you have to tell me! I was just curious.” Chat scratched the back of his neck and avoided her eye.

Well, that was an odd request.

Still, Ladybug obligingly thought about the end of the date.

_He kissed her hand._

Just remembering it knocked the breath out of her lungs. She pressed her palms to her burning cheeks and wrestled with the weird grin possessing her facial muscles like it had a mind of it’s own.

“Well,” she said through the grin and the thick, syrupy, suffocating concoction of guilt and pure bliss. “It-it ended well.”

She scrubbed her face and reminded herself to breathe. _You’re an adult!_ she told herself sternly. _You've got yourself a job and a husband and a life and everything. Show a little more dignity!_

Except the word ‘husband’ was a slippery, slippery slope of a thought, and it was mere seconds before it took conscious thought not to bounce in place and giggle like a loon.

_Not_ doing either of those things took reminding why she was trying not to, and she glanced cautiously at Chat, apology at the ready.

He was giving her a very strange look.

“Bugaboo,” he said slowly, carefully. “Do you have a _crush?_ ”

“ _Don’t_ call me— um.”

_Well, it’s not like Ladybug would ever want to…_

“I— no— we— ma— I mean—”

What could she say to _that?_

“I— m-maybe?” she finally tried, wincing as she looked at Chat once again. She normally did everything she could not to lie to her partner (with the obvious exception of her identity), but just shoving in his face that she was in love with someone else seemed unnecessarily cruel.

Chat just continued to stare.

“…Sorry.”

The apology slipped out, unbidden, from the sludge of guilt coating her airways.

Chat gave himself a little shake, finally blinking huge, luminescent green eyes. “Sorry for what?”

Many things, all of which would sound uncomfortably like _I love you_ if she said them out loud.

“…Nothing.”

She threw her arms around his neck instead, rising up onto her tiptoes so the impulsive hug would feel like a _hug_ and not an awkward attempt at strangulation. “Thank you.”

“For _what?_ ” Chat repeated, sounding twice as mystified but graciously bending over and hugging her back all the same.

_Everything._

“For being you.”

She could feel the suspicious look he gave her, even if she couldn’t see it. “That wasn’t what you were apologizing for, too, was it?”

“Nope,” she reassured him with half a laugh, pecking his cheek as she drew back. “The akuma should in there by now, c'mon.”

She got all the way to the door before she realized he wasn’t following her. “Chat?”

He was right where she left him, except now he was frozen, bright red and gaping after her.

Belatedly, she realized the cheek kiss was… possibly a bit much.

_Oops._


	16. marichat, snuggles

“Looks like all your worrying was for nothing, princess.”

Marinette jumped, grateful he’d waited until she set her pencil down to announce his presence, because if these sketches got ruined, they would take _hours_ of work to redo. “Why don’t you ever use the front door?”

Chat paused, one steel-toed boot dangling over her rug. “I… don’t know. Habit?”

She snorted, slouching in her chair and rolling her stiff back. _Just two more sketches, Marinette. C'mon, you can do it!_ “You could have just come in the front door back at the bakery, too, you know. My parents wouldn’t have run you off the premises or anything.”

“But then I would have to _leave_ by the front door. And you had a _balcony_ ,” Chat explained, entering her room fully

She fondly recalled his fascination with jumping off her balcony, and picked her pencil back up, smiling. “You realize that now I’m questioning all of our years of friendship. Was it _me_ you liked, or just my balcony?”

Chat leaned on the back of her chair, the stabilizers emitting a soft suck and _hiss_ as the seat bounced. “Is there a balcony here? No? Yet here I am. There’s your proof. Anyway—” and here he rested his chin on her head. “—Ladybug and Adrien’s date.”

“Went great,” Marinette finished, looking up with a grin. “I heard, you _dork_.”

Chat knuckled her cheek. Marinette liked to think the gesture was affectionate.

“ _You_ were the one flipping out about it,” Chat reminded her archly, tail flicking in the corner of her vision. “I just thought you’d want to know that they both said it was _awesome_.”

“Wai-wai-wait!” Marinette yelped, flailing fully upright. “ _Adrien_ said it was awesome?”

Sure, he’d told _Ladybug_ that, but Chat too?

“He had a date with _Ladybug_ , princess,” he reminded her, a little unnecessarily. She’d _been_ there, after all. “I told you he’d be happy with anything.”

“But details!” she whined, twisting around in the chair like an overeager puppy. “What did he say _exactly?_ ”

He blinked, then smirked. “Tell you what: I’ll tell you if you tell me everything Ladybug said.”

“Deal,” Marinette agreed instantly, suddenly very grateful for her ‘insider knowledge,’ as it were.

Chat’s aloof exterior crumbled, giving way to a huge, ridiculous, goofy grin that could only be described as the manifestation of pure fangirl joy.

Marinette suspected she’d just signed up for more than she’d anticipated.


	17. marichat, heart

She had, but not in the ways she suspected.

“It was a picnic in this really out of the way nook— Did you know that Ladybug does this adorable little nose wrinkle thing when she drinks soup?”

Marinette spluttered. “He told you _that?_ ”

She _did_ that?

More than that, Adrien had _noticed_ enough to tell Chat?

“I— well— he thought it was adorable, okay?” Chat said, oddly defensive, glancing out the window. His eyes narrowed in thought. “I need to get Ladybug to drink soup on patrol.”

Marinette swore to herself to never drink soup on patrol, ever.

She kicked Chat’s shin with her bare toes, trying to get him back on a track that didn’t involve her unconscious eating habits. “But tell me what he said about _her!_ Besides that she wrinkles her nose when she drinks soup.”

“He said she’s… oh jeez.” He bent nearly double, hiding his grin behind his folded forearms. “She loves video games and fashion and, god, she’s smart and funny and she flirts like—”

He glanced at Marinette, who was hanging on every word, and coughed. “Adrien was… yeah.”

Marinette made a tiny, high-pressure noise in the back of her throat.

_He liked the date he liked it he liked it he liked it—_

He liked _her_.

“But what did _Ladybug_ say?” Chat wanted to know, ducking in until he was nose-to-nose with Marinette. “What did she say about Adrien?”

He looked so invested in her answer that she didn’t even think twice about gushing, despite her resolution last night to do nothing of the sort.

“She said he was really kind,” Marinette sighed wistfully, leaning back until the edge of her desk dug into her spine. “He didn’t even mind her carrying him half-way across the city and I— I mean she was really worried about that.”

“Marinette,” Chat said, suddenly serious. “I don’t think there’s a single Parisian out there who would mind being carried half-way across the city by Ladybug, least of all Adrien.”

Marinette choked on air.

She caught her breath to ask about it, but Chat went on, “That was one of his favorite parts of the date—feeling that close to her…”

He trailed off dreamily, and Marinette vividly remembered the smell of Adrien’s cologne in her nose, the breadth of his shoulders and the way his waist fit into the curve of her arm, and found she didn’t have any breath left to respond, heat pounding in her throat and cheeks flushing red.

They went back and forth like this for the better part of two hours, at which point Marinette realized she had only three hours left to finish her last two design sketches and kicked Chat out in a panic.

Not that it helped her focus much—after class, her teacher stopped her to ask who the lovely young man sketched into all of her margins was.


	18. adrinette, asap

“Thank you so much for helping me out with this,” said Marinette as she and Adrien walked down the hall to her classroom, arms full of boxes of assorted fabric scraps. “I know this wasn’t what you’d planned for this afternoon.”

“Not a problem,” Adrien assured her kindly, keeping pace with her much shorter stride without a word of complaint. “I’ve been told to meet Mme. Martin and talk to her about her modeling roster for her upcoming classes.”

“O-oh,” Marinette breathed, cursing the stutter that just would not go away. “Are you thinking of modeling for her?”

“Sort of,” he said sheepishly. “Actually, I was asked if I could fill in for one of her life drawing classes, so I’m seeing if she still needs my help.”

_Life drawing?_

Marinette was torn between the desire to forbid him from doing any such thing (which she had no right to do), and sneaking into said class (which she also had no right to do).

Adrien took her red face and sudden silence, and misinterpreted. He laughed. “It’s not actually _that_ embarrassing, you know. I’ve filled in for life drawing classes before, for Professor Dubois. The students are usually pretty nice.”

Marinette nearly dropped her box, tripping to a halt as she stared at Adrien’s not-actually-that-innocent back, wondering how the _hell_ she missed that.

It had to have been after they graduated _lycée_ , when Marinette was struggling to adjust to the much higher demands of the university and hadn’t had quite as much time for stalk— er, _observing_ Adrien, but before she’d begun her internship last year, because she was kind of being _paid_ to keep track of Adrien’s schedule for that.

While she was wondering just where she’d gone wrong to have missed something so _life-altering_ , Adrien noticed she was no longer walking beside him and turned back with another laugh. “Is it really _that_ much of a shock?”

“K-kind of?” Marinette offered weakly. “I, um, didn’t expect it out of you.”

She entertained a brief little fantasy of sneaking into his room as Ladybug and messing him up so badly he couldn’t cover all the marks up and, in that manner, forcing him to cancel.

“Why? It’s just modeling.”

Or, better yet, sitting in front of an entire class with those marks on display…

Marinette mentally shook the thought away, heat simmering in the pit of her stomach. “I… I guess you’re right.”

It was _just modeling_ , and keeping him from it was _not her right_.

Adrien opened the classroom door, and greeted Mme. Martin with a quiet smile.

“Ah, thank you, Marinette,” Mme. Martin said, shuffling papers around on her desk in a distracted fashion. “Just over there would be wonderful.”

When both the boxes and Mme. Martin’s papers were squared away, the professor turned to them and greeted them properly, smile freezing on her face with her first good look at Adrien.

Marinette abruptly remembered that it was to _Mme. Martin_ that she’d turned in those design sketches—the ones with Adrien’s face and figure scrawled into the margins.

_Shit._

“Professor,” Adrien said, oblivious to the sudden tension. “Professor Dubois said that you might need a model for your next life drawing class? I’m the one who used to fill in for him, Adrien Agreste.”

Mme. Martin looked from their faces to their rings (not matching, but very similar in style and make) to Marinette in particular, and laughed.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” she said knowingly, eyes sparkling. “I’m sure you have other, far more _pleasurable_ demands on your time. I do thank you for taking the time to bring these up here, though.”

After chatting idly for a few minutes, they parted ways for their other obligations.

As soon as Mme. Martin was out of earshot, Adrien leaned in close to Marinette’s ear and whispered, “Did she just assume we were married to each other?”

“I-I think so,” Marinette murmured back.

“I wonder why she thought that?”

“Ehehehehe…”


	19. ladrien, socks

It started with a stretch and a sigh, and it ended with one deeply insulted Gabriel Agreste, and Ladybug’s still not sure how it all happened.

One minute she was scrambling to find Adrien at Nathalie’s behest and the next she was dragging him out into the night over her shoulder like a caveman, all suited up in red and black and no idea what she was doing.

He’d just looked so _tired_. And she’d been sent to drag him back to work _yet again_. And she didn’t _want_ to, not when he’d just give her a tired smile and drag along in her wake like the prettiest ragdoll that ever was.

_Why_ her alternative to turning him into the authorities was to drag him out into the Parisian night (instead of, oh, she didn’t know, just pretending she’d never seen him and throwing Nathalie off his trail) was beyond her, though. Maybe she didn’t think Nathalie would believe her? Maybe her protective urges demanded real action, not subterfuge? Maybe she just really wanted to throw Adrien over her shoulder and carry him away into the night?

“Er, I-I can walk, you know.”

“R-right!”

None of those explanations were ones she could give the man himself.

She put him down on the pavement in the middle of a quietly lit shopping district and fidgeted.

“…So.”

Ladybug flinched, waiting for the inevitable interrogation.

“Why are we… here?” said Adrien, choosing his words with obvious care, yet still looking happy and expectant, like he honestly didn’t mind being the subject of a kidnapping.

_Ah_ , Ladybug thought, ears ringing in blind panic, _**there** was that interrogation_.

“I…” She opened her mouth and held it like that, hoping hopelessly for a lightning bolt to strike her dead or leave her with a suitable excuse; either would work just fine for her.

The sky remained a light-polluted blue-grey-purple, freckled lightly with stars and air traffic; no lightning appeared to be forthcoming.

“Socks!” she nearly shouted, because she’d just washed and put away the ones Chat gave her just this morning, and because there was an advert for socks on the board behind Adrien.

The happy expectancy fell, leaving confusion in its wake. “… _Socks?_ ”

“Socks,” Ladybug assured him, nodding with all the confidence she didn’t have and gesticulating as though hand movements could clarify an equally absent point. “You need socks—” _what_ “—I mean I need so— er. Socks are—” _abort abort abort_ “—Socks!”

“…Socks,” repeated Adrien, corner of his mouth twitching.

“Socks,” she agreed weakly. “We came here to get you socks. Because everyone needs socks. Everyone. Even people as pretty as you need socks.”

Oh look, she didn’t stutter once.

He’d actually heard all that.

_Fuck._

The twitch at the corner of his mouth had grown into a smile as _be_ mused as it was _a_ mused. “…Okay.”

* * *

They got Adrien socks.

He let her pick them out and paid the blushing cashier while Ladybug was distracted—a fact she didn’t realize until they were fifteen paces out the door because she was wondering about important things like life and taxes and how the hell her dorky ruffian of a partner had managed to afford the socks he’d gotten Marinette; she’d just found out that they were some insanely swank brand.

(If he’d saved up to get her _socks_ out of some misguided, fiction-influenced notion of ‘spoiling’ her or something equally ridiculous, she was… going to have to sit him down and have a talk with him about that, and/or possibly feed him every time he came over; he _couldn’t_ be eating well after splurging that badly. On _socks_ , no less.)

She caught the movement of Adrien stuffing his wallet back in his pocket as they walked, and it yanked her back to earth.

Speaking of splurging…

“Wait! I-I…” She trailed off, spluttering uselessly. She what? Was intending to buy those socks for him? What good would it do to say that _now?_

She fell silent. 

_Idiot, idiot, idiot, idiot, idiot, idiot, what an idiot, idiot, idiot…_

“Hey, Ladybug?” Adrien gently interrupted when it became apparent that she didn’t have anything else to say. “Why did I need socks now? I mean, why socks? Why now?”

_Gnurk_.

She should… probably come clean now, shouldn’t she.

She huffed a tiny sigh and studied the advert in the shop window while he studied his not-gift.

“…You didn’t,” she confessed to the smoggy downtown air. He wasn’t looking at her and she wasn’t looking at him, but she felt his presence as keenly as if they’d been staring into each other’s eyes. “I just… Nathalie— _Marinette_ was looking for you, and you looked so tired, and I…”

She glanced up, meeting his eye by accident, and feeling the shock of it down to her toes. “And I stopped thinking. I just wanted to get you away from that.”

It required a full-body jerk to break the stare, and his expression (open—so _open_ it stole her breath and her concentration and her heart in one fell, effortless swoop) stuck, branded into her mind as she went on, “S-sorry about, um, k-kidnapping you.”

A moment of silence, and then—

“Can-can I hug you? Please?”

The open look had been replaced with a funny little smile that looked like a half-step from tears, and, somehow, it was even worse than the openness. His arm was raised, hovering awkwardly over her shoulder as he waited for permission.

Ladybug gave it in a confused-but-accepting wordless little noise in the back of her throat and by stepping into the crook of his arm.

‘Hug’ was too gentle a word for the almost crushing embrace he enveloped her in. Ladybug squeaked, nose introduced his shoulder in a rather violent manner as the air was squeezed out of her lungs.

“A-Adrien…?” she tried, lips catching on the fabric of his shirt with how close her held her.

Instead of explaining why he was suddenly hanging onto her like a life raft, he shifted his grip and picked her clear up off the ground, ignoring her yelp and spinning her around.

“ _Thank you_ ,” Ladybug heard rasped just above her ear, hot air filtering through to her scalp, and then Adrien set her down, though he didn’t let her go just yet.

“You’re welcome to kidnap me anytime,” Adrien said, voice cracking on the last word and still wearing that broken little smile, and Ladybug…

Well, who was Ladybug to say no?

“N-noted.”

* * *

He wore the socks all through the next week, only taking them off when his work required it, and Marinette was forced to explain to her boss why she kept blushing at her charge’s feet.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Ladynoir, letting in](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8597932) by [Totally_lucky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Totally_lucky/pseuds/Totally_lucky)




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